My Sister Was Killed in the Name of ‘Honor.’ Kuwait’s Repeal of Article 153 Is Progress — But It’s Not Enough

I’m deeply moved by the news that Kuwait has officially abolished Article 153 of its Penal Code—a law that once allowed reduced sentences for men who committed so-called “honor” killings against their wives, mothers, daughters, or sisters. This isn’t just a legal reform; it’s a powerful testament to the resilience and courage of Kuwaiti women and activists who have fought tirelessly for decades to dismantle this oppressive statute.

I think about my sister Banaz’s smile—so bright and sweet, the kind that made you believe in a kinder world. That light was extinguished in 2006 when her life was stolen by a so-called “honor” killing that haunts me every day. So when I heard Kuwait abolished Article 153 of its Penal Code—a law that once let men kill their wives, mothers, daughters, or sisters with reduced sentences in the name of “honor”—I felt a surge of hope. This isn’t just a legal reform; it’s a crack in a wall of silence, built by decades of Kuwaiti women whose courage refused to bend.

For years, activists like Alanoud AlSharekh and her group Abolish 153 fought a system that excused murder as tradition. A 2022 NPR article captured their struggle against an all-male parliamentary committee clinging to the past. But through relentless pressure and global solidarity, they toppled a law rooted in Kuwait’s colonial past—where British legal frameworks fused with patriarchal norms to treat women’s lives as disposable. I’m moved by women like Farah Akbar, whose tragedy fueled this change, and by countless unnamed voices who paved this path.

This victory is a new dawn for justice. Yet, as someone who knows loss’s permanence, I see the road ahead. Repealing Article 153 is a start, but making it real for women demands more. Kuwait’s justice system, strained by corruption and scarce resources, often fails to protect. Without shelters or services—none government-run exist today—women fleeing violence are left vulnerable. And with few women in parliament, conservative forces could claw back this progress.

The deeper fight is harmful norms. “Honour” killings thrive on beliefs that laws alone can’t erase. Education must challenge these norms, though speaking out risks backlash. I’ve felt that silence—after Banaz’s death, it was deafening. But I also know change is possible. This isn’t Kuwait’s burden alone; from London to Lahore, women face this violence. We’re linked in this struggle.

Abolishing Article 153 is a milestone, not the end. True justice means rewriting the values that let such laws stand. I imagine a Kuwait where no sister’s laugh is silenced—a world Banaz deserved. That’s the fight I’ll never abandon.